


The Ficlet Collection - Supernatural RPF

by breakaway71



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Humor, M/M, POV Outsider, Romance, Schmoop, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-01
Updated: 2011-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:14:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 4,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24735253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breakaway71/pseuds/breakaway71
Summary: A small collection of short works within the Supernatural RPF fandom. Various genres and pairings!
Relationships: Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki, Jensen Ackles/Misha Collins, Misha Collins/Jared Padalecki, Misha Collins/Richard Speight Jr.
Kudos: 8





	1. Coming Home (Jensen/Jared)

**Author's Note:**

> Please note, none of these are new works. These were all previously posted separately, but for the sake of my sanity, I've decided to consolidate everything under 1,000 words that isn't part of a series into a single collection.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quiet moment, a softly spoken conversation about _home_ and _together_.

Twilight descends slowly, stars winking into existence in a sky tinged with ever-darkening shades of blues and purples. A crescent moon is just visible over the horizon, and its light glimmers over the vast ocean that lies before him. His toes dig into warm sand that glows with a shimmering white iridescence, and he breathes in the fragrant sea-salt smell in the air.

He closes his eyes and smiles softly, just enjoying a few moments of peaceful solitude, something he rarely gets to take advantage of, before the feel of strong arms encircle him from behind, and a chin comes down to rest on his shoulder. “Whatcha doin’ out here by yourself?” The words are whispered into his ear, soft breath tickling his cheek.

“Just…breathing,” he replies, just as softly, turning his head enough to brush his lips over Jared’s. They kiss for long moments, simply enjoying the feel of each other so close, before he pulls back and smiles again, his eyes sparkling. “I was planning to be back up to the house before you woke up.”

“I’m glad I found you out here,” Jared says, brushing his lips over his cheek, his neck, then moving up to his ear again, where he nips at the lobe gently. “It’s beautiful here.”

“It really is.” He sighs. “I wish we didn’t have to leave.”

Jared turns him, lets his hands rest lightly at his hips, just needing to touch, to be close, to have that connection. He understands, because he feels the same. He leans forward just a little, rests his forehead against Jared’s shoulder.

“Jensen,” Jared says after a moment. “I should probably tell you something, and you might get angry with me.”

His mind wants him to tense, but this close to Jared, feeling this peaceful, his body just doesn’t know how. He does pull back a little, blinks up at Jared and tilts his head in question.

Jared’s lips ghost over his again and he sighs a little. “I bought the beach house,” he says quietly.

“You _what?_ ” he laughs, disbelieving. At Jared’s look, his eyes widen. “ _Why?_ ”

“Jen…have you _seen_ you here?” Jared’s hand lifts, runs through his hair distractedly as he steps back. “We’ve come here at least once a year since we got together, and you’re happier here then I’ve ever seen you anywhere else in the world.” He looks out at the water, his eyes glinting as the stars become brighter in the deepening twilight. “The show is ending in just a few months, you know. And neither of us have any projects lines up. I know we haven’t talked much about what we’re going to do, but I thought…maybe we could just _be_ , here, just for a while. Just us.”

He looks back, takes in the clapboard beach house that he fell in love with the first time he ever saw it, in so much the same way he fell in love with the man he first saw it _with_. It’s become a home, of sorts, already…the place they escape to when things are just too hard anywhere else, the place they come when they just want some privacy. In many ways, this is more _their_ place than the house in Vancouver ever was. “I can’t believe you bought me a house,” he says with a grin, tugging on Jared’s hand to bring him close again.

“I bought _us_ a house,” Jared corrects, and his eyes are so warm, so _bright_ and _alive_ that all he can do is kiss him again, slowly, sweetly, because there will be time for passion and fire later.

Soon, they’ll have all the time in the world.

They are coming home.


	2. Snapshot (Jensen/Misha)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jared’s used to being the one Jensen leans on.

Jared is just getting out of his trailer, getting ready to finally, _blessedly_ go home after a long day of shooting some of the toughest scenes of the season, when he stops dead to take in the sight before him.

Jensen is leaning against the back of his own trailer, head tilted back, eyes closed, arms crossed. Jared’s seen the position before, usually when Jensen is at his most upset, those raw, painful times when he lets the scenes get to him more than they should, when the acting starts bringing too much to the surface.

Any other day, and Jared would be walking over there, offering quiet comfort in the form of a beer and video games and companionship. Jensen’s been his best friend for a long time now, and they’ve always looked out for each other like that. Him being a shoulder for the older man comes as naturally as breathing, and he knows that when the roles are reversed, Jensen is the same. There’s only one thing stopping him from doing so now.

Jensen isn’t alone.

It’s getting dark, the sun just beginning to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows over the lot, but there’s no mistaking Misha as he stands in front of Jensen, one hand placed loosely on Jensen’s hip, the other trailing over his cheek, down his neck, stopping when it reaches his chest and presses just over his heart.

Jared swallows, but can’t seem to force himself to look away as Jensen’s eyes open and he gazes wordlessly at Misha. Jared can see Misha’s lips moving. He’s too far away to hear what he’s saying, but Jared can imagine the carefully concealed words of soothing comfort hidden inside a typical Misha-style joke by the way Jensen lets out a helpless sound of laughter that carries just faintly to Jared’s ears.

Jensen’s arms fall to his sides, then reach to grasp at Misha’s hips, pulling them closer together until they’re chest to chest, breathing the same air, separated by only the barest fraction of an inch and the hand Misha still has pressed to Jensen’s heart. Jared should look away, he _knows_ he should look away, but it’s like watching a train wreck, a beautiful, hopeful, _wonderful_ train wreck, as Misha’s gaze slides down to Jensen’s lips and he inches forward, hesitating _right there_ , just until Jensen closes the distance between them.

He watches for a few moments longer, his gaze trapped in some helpless pull of curiosity and wonder at this thing, this crazy thing between them that he hadn’t known about until just now, though it’s clearly been going on for some time. When Jensen’s hand slides up underneath Misha’s shirt, he finally manages to drag his eyes away and take a few steadying breaths.

As he walks away, he finds himself smiling a little helplessly, because it’s more comforting to him than he would have guessed, knowing that his best friend, his brother by everything but blood, has this.


	3. Chicken Soup (Jensen/Jared)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jensen is sick. Jared tries to make it better.

Jensen sat up and coughed miserably, clutching the blanket around him and curling deeper into the couch. His chest ached, and lying down only made it worse, but if he sat up for too long his nose started to run even more than it already was. He shuddered out a breath as shivers wracked his body, and gingerly rested his head back against the pillow.

Jared poked his head into the living room from the kitchen, a worried frown firmly in place. “Hey Jen, you hungry?”

A weak cough. “Just let me die in peace,” Jensen moaned, though it came out sounding more like, _Jus let be die id peace._

“Sorry buddy, can’t do that,” Jared replied, coming over and sitting besides him on the couch. One hand reached out, pressed to Jensen’s forehead for a moment before sliding back to card through his probably disgusting hair. “I think your fever’s gone down, at least.”

Jensen didn’t reply, just snuggled further into the blankets and closed his eyes, exhausted.

“Babe, you need to eat something,” Jared said firmly, standing. “Sit up, I’ll go get you some soup.”

Sighing noisily, Jensen nevertheless managed to do as he was told, tugging the blanket up with him to wrap around his shoulders. From the floor next to him, Sadie sat up as well and placed her head on his lap, staring up at him with big brown eyes. He pet her absently while he waited, and she nosed into his hand with a little snuffle.

Jared came back within a few minutes, which implied he’d been ready and waiting with food he must have made while Jensen was sleeping. He carried a large, steaming bowl and a glass of water, the first of which he placed on the coffee table in front of Jensen before handing him the water and a couple aspirin. Jensen downed both and shot a cautious glance at the bowl.

“There’s no need to look at it like _it’s_ going to eat _you_ ,” Jared said a little grumpily as he sat beside Jensen again and handed him the soup.

Jensen couldn’t really smell much, but even he could detect the rich aromas curling around him, penetrating the blockage in his sinuses. He had to admit, after three days with very little to eat, it was making his mouth water just a bit.

“You just gonna stare at it all day?” Jared asked, his lips quirking upward.

Jensen flipped him off and picked up the spoon, stirring at the broth a few times before ladling some up and taking a wary sip.

It was instantly like being transported twenty years into the past, the taste of chicken and vegetables and just the right mix of mild spices sliding down his throat, offering the comfort of home in a way he only ever usually got when he had time to call his mother. He turned wide eyes to Jared, who shrugged and smiled, fighting off a telltale blush.

“You made this?” Jensen asked, scooping up some more, greedy now for the taste.

“I…maybe called Donna, and painstakingly wrote down the recipe, and spent four hours trying to get it just right,” Jared mumbled. “Figured if anything would get you back on your feet, it’d be the soup your momma used to make when you were sick as a kid, right?”

Jensen was a little too overwhelmed to reply with more than a nearly imperceptible nod, and he took another bite to try to ease the lump in his throat.

Jared smiled, rubbing Jensen’s back through the thick blanket while Jensen quickly downed the rest of the soup. When he was done, Jared set the bowl aside and sat back, curling an arm around Jensen and leaning the older man into him, letting his head rest against Jared’s shoulder. “Feeling any better?”

Another tiny nod, and Jensen’s hand snuck out from the blanket to grasp Jared’s tightly. His eyes were closing again, the sickness sapping all his energy away within moments, but he managed to murmur, “Love you, Jay,” just before the darkness of sleep claimed him again.

Jared smiled softly down at the sleeping form, leaning down to press a kiss into Jensen’s hair before slowly disentangling them to lay Jensen back against the pillow and tuck the blanket around him again. “You too, Jen,” he whispered.

Then he went to make more soup.


	4. Thieves in the Night (Jared/Misha)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're probably not going to be able to keep it from Jensen much longer.

“You know we can’t keep this up,” Jared says, trying for serious although it’s hard when Misha’s across the room frantically typing something away to his minions.

“Sure we can,” Misha says, not bothering to look up. There’s a short pause. “What can’t we keep up?”

Jared rolls his eyes. “This thing where you sneak into the house after Jen goes to bed, stay here all night, and still expect him not to figure out that we’re in here fucking like rabbits.”

“We’re not always fucking like rabbits,” Misha says, ignoring the actual _point_ of the conversation altogether. “Sometimes we’re not even fucking. Sometimes we’re…dare I say it… _cuddling_. Aren’t we, cupcake?” Here, he does look up, grinning, blue eyes sparkling.

Scowling, Jared crosses the room and plucks the phone out of Misha’s hands. “The point, _Sugar Plum_ , is that we can’t keep hiding that we’re actually _in a relationship_ from a guy I share a _house_ with.”

“Oh…” Misha tilts his head, gazing up at Jared curiously. “Were we supposed to be hiding it?” He blinks a couple times. “Only because, I figured Jensen might have caught on when he came in here that first night and made that cute little gagging face at you drooling on my shoulder.”

Jared gapes at him, makes a strangled sort of sound in his throat. “And you didn’t think to _tell me_ about this?” he yelps. “Then why do you still sneak in here every night like you’re terrified of him seeing you?”

Misha has the decency to look sheepish, at least. “Well…it’s possible I have a Mission: Impossible kink?”

Jared does something he’s never done before, and will never admit to later.

He facepalms.


	5. Summer Breeze (Jensen/Jared)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For prompt: _Jensen is still a little weirded out by those wings on his boyfriend, but they sure do come in handy for fanning on a hot summer day!_

Jensen groaned, flopping down onto the couch and pressing his cold can of soda against his forehead. When Jared moved to cuddle, he shoved back with a warning glare. "Dude. Too fucking hot."

Jared waggled his eyebrows and didn't seem fazed in the least when Jensen smacked him with a throw pillow. "Aww, c'mon Jen," he said, pouting. "Not even just a little snuggling?"

Jensen growled. "You run like a zillion degrees hotter than any other human being on the planet as it is. _No_." He closed his eyes, letting his head fall back against the couch as he tried to ignore the sweat trickling down his face and the oppressive quality of the air in the house. "And man, seriously, _when_ are you getting the A/C fixed?"

"Next week is the earliest they can come," Jared sighed.

Jensen could feel his boyfriend watching him, but he didn't bother opening his eyes. Maybe if he fell asleep, he'd feel cooler. Miracles happened every day, right?

Everything was perfectly quiet for long minutes, and the ticking clock on the wall was just starting to lull Jensen into a light doze when he heard the gentle rustle he'd come to associate with Jared's secret. He resisted the temptation to open his eyes and take in the vision he knew would be waiting for him, and seconds later he felt the first faint breeze against his skin. He sighed out in pleasure as Jared moved closer and cool air gusted around him.

"Yeah, thought you might appreciate that," Jared said quietly. There was a smile in his voice.

"Feels good," Jensen murmured, grinning when he felt something soft brush against his cheek. "You're gonna be around all summer, right?"

The cushions shifted again, and Jared's arm nudged Jensen's. "Yeah. I'll be here." He took Jensen's hand in his own, laced their fingers together. "You know, they're pretty handy in the winter, too. Nice and warm."

"Mmm." Jensen hummed agreeably, enjoying the currents of air wafting around him. He reached up blindly, ran a hand over soft feathers. Jared's movements stuttered, a soft sigh slipping out. "Well then," Jensen said, opening his eyes just long enough to meet Jared's. "Guess I'll have to keep you." He winked, curling happily into Jared's side before the younger man could respond.

Jared laughed helplessly, wrapping his arms around Jensen and pressing a fond kiss to the top of his head as he continued to provide what comfort he could with his raven-black wings.


	6. Long Enough (Jared/Misha)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe it's just the right moment.

Maybe it's Misha's hands, the way they're in constant motion: long fingers flipping pages, tapping rhythms against his arm, waving to people who walked past, running through wild locks of hair.

Maybe it's his laugh, the way it just flows out of him with such unconscious ease, bright and happy and unrestrained, with the power to make anyone who hears it smile with him.

Maybe it's the feeling of camaraderie, the way the friendship between them has been building and growing and changing since day one, the way Misha just _gets_ things about him in a way even Jensen can't always understand.

Maybe it's the way the sun is shining right then, casting Misha in a halo of light that for just a fraction of a second makes him appear to truly be the angel he portrays.

Maybe…

Maybe it's just _time_.

"Misha…"

Misha's eyebrow goes up and his lips quirk. "Jared?" he asks, his voice caressing the name, making it sound…different, somehow. Exotic. _Beautiful_.

"I…" Jared is far too caught in those bright blue eyes that he doesn't think he could stop himself from moving even if he wanted to. And he doesn't, not at all. His script falls from suddenly clumsy fingers, and then he's crossing the two feet that separate them. Misha's own script is knocked away, and Jared is fisting his hands in that ridiculous trench coat and dragging Misha forward and crashing their lips together and devouring Misha's moan like it's the sweetest ambrosia. And _yes_.

 _This_.

 _This_ is the moment they've been careening towards since the first moment they said hello.

Jared doesn't hear the wolf-whistles and catcalls and laughter from the crew around them. He doesn't hear Jensen declaring _finally_ and that he _knew it all along_. He doesn't hear the director trying to call everyone back to order.

All he hears, as he pulls away just enough to catch his breath and rest his forehead against Misha's, is his own frantic heartbeat, and the way Misha whispers, "Love you too, Padalecki," and, "It took you long enough."


	7. It's All Fun and Games Until... (Jared/Misha)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jared's in the hospital. Strangely, he's not really minding it so much.

It's ridiculous that he ended up here, and worse still that he has to stay overnight. It's just a broken arm, he's had way worse over the course of his lifetime. But for some reason they're also worried about a concussion, and Jensen (the traitor) hadn't defended him when the nurse had asked if Jared could be trusted to look after himself properly if they let him go home.

He remembers well enough the feeling of his arm snapping when he fell (literally) for Misha's on-set prank, but he doesn't recall hitting his head, so obviously, they're all just out to get him. And, okay fine, he guesses a slight memory malfunction could be _possible_ with a head injury, _if_ he had one. But still. It's the principle of the thing. He's a grown-ass man, he can look after himself, thank you very much.

Plus, being stuck in the hospital means that he's also stuck with Misha's hang-dog expression, because this is, apparently, all his fault, and the only way he can make amends is to sit there and look guilty and dejected all afternoon.

It's not a good look for Misha, for the record. Jared could have gone his whole life without ever having seen Misha Collins look like that.

For lack of something better to do, and in the hopes that it will get some sort of expression other than "What have I _done?_ ", Jared reaches out with his good arm and pokes Misha in the stomach. What he gets is a slow blink and a headtilt.

"What was that for?" Misha asks, slowly.

Jared mentally cheers, because hey, look! It _speaks!_ "Just 'cause," he says, slurring a teeny tiny bit because he's on some pretty decent drugs right now.

This is normally the part where Misha would retaliate with some well-timed barbed comment, or a pinch on the ass designed to make Jared yelp. Instead, he sighs, looks back down and fiddles with the blanket on Jared's bed.

" _Dude_ ," Jared says, because god _damn_ , he can't _take_ it anymore.

Misha's eyes dart up, and he looks startled. "What? What's wrong? Should I go? I can go…"

And the idiot actually half-stands, like Jared is going to let him leave the room thinking he's the world's worst excuse for a human being. He grabs for Misha's jacket sleeve and tugs. Keeps tugging until Misha is forced to either sit down on the bed or end up sprawled ass-up over it. Jared, personally, wouldn't mind Option #2, but he's okay with Misha keeping some of his dignity. For now.

"First of all," Jared says the second Misha's butt hits the bed, "stop looking like you killed a puppy or something, Jesus. It's not the end of the world."

"But –"

"Hey! Not done." Jared makes sure the look he gives Misha is very stern. Very. Stern. "Second of all, if you feel _that_ bad about it, the best thing you could possibly do to apologize is to sneak me in some cheeseburgers." He waggles his eyebrows and gives what he hopes is a winning smile. Misha's lips twitch like he almost wants to grin. It's a start. "And third of all…"

He tugs again (vaguely thinking that he could get used to that), and Misha topples toward him like a domino. Jared catches him before he can land on Jared's slightly battered left arm, and then he angles his head and captures Misha's mouth in what he's proud to say is a _hell_ of a kiss, in spite of (or maybe because of) the drugs. Misha squawks and flails a little, but it doesn't take much effort on Jared's part before he's melting against him completely.

 _Mission accomplished_ , Jared thinks smugly. He reluctantly pulls away after he feels that enough time has passed, and takes satisfaction in the tiny sound Misha makes.

"Wha…" Misha at a loss for words is also a pretty wonderful thing to behold.

Jared adopts a look of pure angelic innocence. It's an expression he's perfected over the years, and it's always served him well. "I'm not going to be allowed to sleep for hours," he tells Misha, pouting a bit. "I think I deserve to be kept entertained, don't you?"

Misha blinks a few times, clearly at a loss and still reeling in a post-Padalecki-kiss daze, and _oh, yeah_.

Jared could definitely get used to this, broken bones or not.


	8. Lost and Found (Misha/Richard)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richard won't ask Misha to stay.

Richard's hands are barely steady as he pours the last of their bottle of wine into the two fluted glasses Misha holds out. There's low music playing in the background, something ethnic and a little bit jazzy, but Richard can barely hear it over his own heartbeat.

This started out as some sort of seduction, Richard is absolutely sure of it. But he's long since forgotten who was meant to be doing the seducing. He's not even sure why it mattered, _if_ it mattered. He's too full of good wine and home cooked Italian food, and Misha is right there, clouding Richard's mind the way he's always done, like some kind of particularly addictive drug.

They haven't seen each other in nearly five years, but that doesn't seem important anymore. What's important is the way Misha's looking at him right now, like those five years never even happened. Like that final night together, full of so much heartache, was just a dream. Like this _means_ something, something significant.

Like this time, if Richard asked him to, he'd stay.

Richard won't. He won't ask for more than tonight. There's only so many times one man can take hearing variations of the word _no_ , no matter how well he understands the reasons behind them.

But tonight…

Tonight he'll beg for if he has to. He needs this, needs _Misha_ , needs to re-memorize all the lines and curves and dips of Misha's body, all the sounds he makes when skin brushes skin and heat flares sharp and bright between them. Richard needs Misha more than he's needed anything his whole life, and he doesn't mind admitting it. Whether he gets a night or a lifetime, he just needs _now_.

They finish their wine, each pretending they don't notice the increasingly heated looks between them until finally Misha sets his glass down. He waits for Richard to follow suit, and then he takes Richard's hand, leading him toward the bedroom.

Richard could almost forget that they're in his own apartment, the way Misha navigates it like it's his own.

They strip each other down in silence, soft light falling on pale skin, kisses exchanged between unsteady heartbeats, and when Misha navigates them toward the bed, Richard remembers why it was always so damn perfect between them.

They re-learn each other in all the ways that never used to matter, taking the time to feel and experience every nuance of the act. Every hitched breath is a treasure, every touch, a revelation. Richard's name falls from Misha's lips, and it feels like a prayer. They come together, and the real world ceases to exist. Time falls away like sand, and all that matters is each new moment, each precious sensation.

In the aftermath, they lie curled together, Richard the big spoon even though he's the smaller one, just like it always used to be. Somehow, for them, it's always made perfect sense.

"I love you," Misha tells him, on that brink that comes just before the tumble into sleep.

Richard kisses his shoulder and, when he's sure Misha's asleep, he whispers the words back. Tries not to hope that it wasn't just the wine speaking, but he won't ask, just like he won't ever ask Misha to stay. Not this time.

~

Richard may not ask, but eventually, he realizes he doesn't need to.

Misha stays anyway.


End file.
